Shot Through the Spark
by Northwest Sage
Summary: ... and you're to blame. A brief moment in the lives of Springer and Arcee.


**Shot Through the Spark... (and you're to blame.)**

He was certain of how he felt and was ready to act. The burly and strong-willed Springer had grown quite close to the sleek, yet dangerous Arcee. Each confided in the other, both hopes and fears and all things in between. When she entered the room, he couldn't help but smile. And he'd noticed her reactions as well. There was a definite connection between the two, of that he had little doubt.

Her curvaceous form caught the summer light as a spider's web trapped the morning dew. She glowed as if she were a _Nontinni_, or as the humans would remark, 'like an angel'. Decepticon activity had been sporadic lately, so many of the Ark's inhabitants were on-call only. This allowed them to take some much needed rest and relaxation. And it also, Springer decided, gave him the perfect opportunity to make his move. Nothing serious, he thought to himself as he built up the needed courage to approach her, just a drive through the mountains. Or a walk besides a lake. Something simple like that, something intimate.

Springer made his way towards the object of his affections. She was engaged in a conversation with Kup, an old war-horse who'd seen more battles than he could even remember. He loved telling stories about past adventures and all the different places he'd been. But they were stories he'd told a thousand and one times, and they'd gone from being mildly endearing to borderline annoying cycles ago. Arcee welcomed the interruption and latched onto Springer's arm as they walked away. "Dweller in the Depths?" he asked, curious as to which story was being repeated.

"Petro-rabbits," Arcee clarified. "Hadn't heard that one since this morning!"

They shared a good-natured laugh at Kup's expense. "Listen, I was going to ask you something," Springer stated.

Arcee smiled. "That's funny. I was going to ask you something!"

Springer felt a slight surge in his circuits. He'd just as well let her ask first, that way he could always brag she'd asked him out the first time. "Ladies first, doll."

"Well, if it wouldn't be too much of a bother..." Arcee began.

"Yes?" Springer warmly replied, somewhat amused by her shyness.

"Can you loan me that data-disk with the Nebulos holographic program?"

Springer was a little baffled. Apparently she had already decided what they would spend the day doing. A fembot that took charge, he thought, a sign of fun times ahead! "Sure," he answered. "But wouldn't you rather---"

"Oh, thank you!" she exclaimed while throwing her arms around him and pulling him closer. For a moment, he thought she was going to kiss him. "Hot Rod asked me to hang out with him in the holo-deck, but we've done every program in the memory banks at least a dozen times."

Springer felt a sharp pain rip through his torso. "Hot Rod?"

"Yeah," Arcee smiled. "He's so much fun. Kind of like you!"

"Kind of like me?" Springer's voice could do little to disguise the fact he was deeply hurt and embarrassed. He shrugged his shoulders in defeat and tried to remain calm. "Right. I'll go get the disk."

Arcee stood there with a joyous expression on her face. Like a teenager about to be handed the keys to their parents car. "Oh, wait!" she called after him.

Springer reluctantly stopped and turned to face her.

"What were you going to ask me?"

"Nothing," Springer lied. "It wasn't important."

He reappeared a few minutes later and handed the requested disc over. "There you go."

"I really appreciate it," she added. "You're my best friend, Springer, you know that? I'll find you later and tell you how it went."

"I can't wait." Springer stood there in the cold, still silence only heartbreak can cause. He kept watching until she was finally out of his line of sight. His optics spotted Kup, still in the same position he had been in when Arcee was listening to him talk. "Kup," he shouted. "Get your old joints over here and tell me a story."

Kup made his way towards Springer, sporting a huge grin on his worn and scarred face. "Springer, my lad," he warmly greeted. "What would you like to hear?"

"It doesn't matter," Springer said. "Just talk."

**end.**


End file.
